


Daifuku

by voids



Category: Sekiro: Shadows Die Twice (Video Game)
Genre: Come Eating, Emetophilia, Food Porn, Genichiro is a sicko, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Vomiting, Wolf is a hungry confused pup
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:15:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21992041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voids/pseuds/voids
Summary: Wolf, new into Genichiro's service, is offered a kindness by his new lord. However, Genichiro faces problems of his own.
Relationships: Genichiro Ashina/Sekiro | Wolf
Comments: 2
Kudos: 50





	Daifuku

**Author's Note:**

> Shout out to [Vigils](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vigils/pseuds/Vigils) for beta reading this, and also for helping me figure things out.

It all starts out with an insurgent piece of strawberry flavored daifuku.

  
  


The stoicism in Wolf’s features is replaced with a confused stare when Genichiro Ashina enters the room, carrying a silver tray in his hands. The furrow in his brow roughens when the tray is carefully placed down on the chabudai before him. 

  
  


A batch of four daifuku and a jar of Dragonspring sake are presented for his taking. 

  
  


Genichiro thinks of it more as an act of nobility rather than kindness. With Wolf now bowing under his service, the wounds that were left behind by the past are but encompassing echoes. It is how it must be.

  
  


“Please, accept it.” Genichiro offers, hand hovering over the food in invitation.

  
  


It’s an oddly generous offer, even more so if Wolf takes into account how much the Ashina leader wanted him dead a few days ago. It causes his eyes to squint. Watchful. “What are—?”

  
  


“Ichigo daifuku. Now, I assume you’re no foreigner to them. But alas, the cunning Owl could only feed you so much, am I wrong?”

  
  


Wolf’s mechanical hand clenches into a fist. His pupils move suspiciously from the sweets to the wooden floorboards under his knees, resentment dancing in his gaze. It is faint, but his fingers fumbling nervously with the creases of his hakama don’t go overlooked. Genichiro suppresses the hint of a smile. A master shinobi’s restraint from body language in the face of their diffidence is enviable, but Wolf has been lessened into a cornered man by Genichiro’s volition, no less. 

  
  


“Many of your men died by my blade”, Wolf mutters, steadfast despite being shadowed by Genichiro’s abysmal height, “their blood still taints my robes to this day. I may be your shinobi, but my former iniquity still prevails.” 

Wolf is an open riddle, a permanent fascination etched in Genichiro’s mind. He itches to unravel him. 

  
  


He kneels down as well, his breath hot on Wolf’s hair. 

  
  


“Do I perceive remorse in your words?” 

  
  


His voice isn’t hostile, yet the shinobi’s throat bobs dryly under his gaze. Genichiro’s proximity is but a thundering presence, built to shrivel even the most capable of men. Wolf’s silence is everlasting, however.

  
  


Genichiro cannot fathom it.

  
  


Breathing out his surrender, he chooses one daifuku from the tray, starch slipping off and dusting his fingers. Its mushy exterior brings the scraps of Wolf’s famine out to the surface. When Genichiro offers up the sweet to him, as round and real and luscious as it gets, he wants to refuse it. Such a selfless offering was reserved only from the sympathy of his former master. He shakes his head and bows in respect, until the fruity scent brings a rumble out of his empty stomach, loud enough to be heard.

  
  


Genichiro grins. 

  
  


“Consider it diplomacy between us, shinobi of Ashina.”

  
  


It should be easy, to claim the sweet so blatantly offered. Yet, the very heart of his own instincts still warns him that something is off.

  
  


Genichiro wordlessly places the daifuku upon his open palm. Wolf draws it up near his nose. At least, the smell feels enticing, edible. Strawberry scented, with a generous layer of anko filling inside the wrapping. 

  
  


Genichiro waits quietly, anticipation furrowing his brow. 

  
  


Dubiously, Wolf takes a small bite. 

  
  


He squishes down on the food with his tongue before chewing. The taste overwhelms his palate, much like an explosion of flavour which quite matches the smell, albeit better. Much, much better.

  
  


He wonders if Genichiro was aware of his sweet tooth, nothing but a coincidence. His reticence slowly vanishes, however, as he swallows down and shoves the entire remaining portion into his mouth. 

  
  


He becomes so lost in the pleasure of having something to feed on, his eyes close on their own, unaware of the predatory glance of the man before him.

  
  


Genichiro is enthralled by Wolf’s greed, so much he catches himself salivating at the sight. The son of Owl had always struck him as a malnourished man, a warrior whose endurance must’ve settled from the foundations of nothing but muscle upon skin and bone, carefully built up from years and years of restless training. He didn’t expect, however, for him to live up to his name with such a raw display of voracity. His cheeks feel hot, but no hotter than the blood gathering in his cock. Genichiro shifts uncomfortably as his hand sneaks between his thighs to grope himself through his hakama. Thrill pools deep into his gut with the urgency to find out whether it’s true Wolf knows of the taste of come. Even if Genichiro made sure the anko heavily layered over the flavour, he catches himself yearning for Wolf’s enthusiasm to be all but deliberate. He feels up the swell of his balls under the fabric of his robes and pretends his shinobi is engrossed by the earthy tang of him. Genichiro’s mischief is safe for as long as Wolf’s eyes remain shut.

  
  


He is already going through the third daifuku when it happens.

  
  


Wolf has barely chewed the food before swallowing, and has to cough it up again. Genichiro forces himself out of his absorption. The coughing won’t stop. The food must’ve been severely stuck in his throat, probably even in his windpipe. 

  
  


“Drink up some Dragonspring. It may help.” He advises, voice husky with lust as he pours sake into a porcelain cup.

  
  


Wolf snatches the cup from his hand and drinks up, gulps down a few times and waits for the sake to warm up in his throat. It becomes clear he isn’t used to drinking at all, his eyes watering from the terrible blaze enveloping the tender walls of his esophagus, and of course, the piece of food remains well stuck inside.

  
  


Fear settling in his chest now, Genichiro offers him another cup. Pats one large hand against his back, and presses his thumbs against his pulse point, depriving Wolf of air even more. He is acting helpless and selfish as he pleads silently for Wolf to cough that damned bit of food out if it is the last thing he does. 

  
  


When it is apparent none of these will help, Genichiro empties his mind of distractions, and parts Wolf’s jaw open. 

  
  


“This will be quick.” He mutters. _“Breathe.”_ He almost adds, face burning displeased at the serious truth: Wolf is unable to breathe at all.

  
  


The next thing he’s doing is shoving his index and middle fingers into his mouth. Past the uvula, and down his throat. 

  
  


A slick heat engulfs around him. Wolf gags once, twice. His throat tightens and churns against his fingers, but Genichiro’s stubbornness is made of steel. He has barely time to think about the soft, warm meat of his throat before a raspy noise gurgles through. Wolf is retching, tongue sticking out and saliva dribbling from his lip like some wild animal. His face is covered in sweat. Genichiro hardly has time to remove his hand when he realizes the speed with which Wolf’s body is reacting to Genichiro’s will. An acrid stench fills the air and Wolf heaves, hunches forward with one arm against his stomach as it empties the meal.

  
  


Genichiro hauls himself backwards, away from the puddle. Wolf coughs a few more times before ceasing completely. The relief that washes through Genichiro when his shinobi is breathing again is thrilling. Sure, the cleaning won’t be nearly as fun, but the color returning to Wolf’s cheeks makes his heart beat once again. 

  
  


Eventually, he maneuvers him to stand up, Wolf’s hands clinging onto his wrists for balance. Genichiro shakes his head, combing back some slick strands of loose dark hair away from his shinobi’s forehead. His thumb wipes the slobber off his chin. Tear tracks have smeared his face, he realizes, but there’s something else bothering Genichiro; something hard between his legs that simply refuses to go. To his dismay, it only seems to have fattened at the sight of Wolf looking absolutely ruined and disgusting. 

  
  


He will have to take care of that. _In private_.

  
  


“Did nobody teach you to properly chew your food, shinobi?” Genichiro sighs, pulling Wolf close to him.

  
  


A shudder runs through Wolf’s body. He didn’t mean for that to happen. It was all just so delicious.

  
  


“Forgive me, my lord. I will be more careful next time.” Wolf apologizes. The change in his voice doesn’t go unnoticed by Genichiro. Docile and trusting like a stray who’s been given a shelter, Wolf’s fingers shyly curl onto his lord’s manto.

  
  


Genichiro nods. His erection grazes against Wolf’s hip, but he’s adamant his shinobi is all but inquisitive. 

  
  


“You really scared the hell out of me. Don’t do that again. It is an order.” Genichiro purrs, fondly pressing a soft kiss to his temple. He blinks, startled, after he realizes what he’s done. Surprisingly though, Wolf allows the gesture, meek in his lord's arms. “You stupid mutt.”

  
  


It becomes clear after a while that such proximity renders Wolf uncomfortable, his submission being temporary when he realizes the situation they’re in. His shoulders have tensed up under Genichiro’s arms and his head is tilted to the side, as if he wants to look at anything but him. 

  
  


Right. It still doesn’t change the fact that he induced his vomit. _By forcing fingers deep in his throat._

  
  


They break apart. Their withdrawal is but a reinforcement of their hierarchy, a cold flame kindled mainly by Wolf’s endeavor into subordination, but there is something else. Genichiro catches it in Wolf’s eyes: hidden apprehension. Doubt. He pulls the manto over his growing arousal, and believes Wolf’s purple cheeks are consequence of his shame. 

  
  


He still wants to leave the room, but won’t do so without Genichiro’s command.

  
  


This factor alone is enough to keep the fire in his chest ablaze.

  
  


“You’re dismissed for the rest of the day, shinobi of Ashina. Take your leave, and head to the baths. I’ll have a servant bring you something to wear.” Genichiro’s voice is hoarse with restraint, yet firm.

  
  


Wolf bows politely at him. There's a brief pause in which he glances at the rotting mess on the floor, seemingly unsure, before crossing the door.

  
  


“I’ll… take care of that.” Genichiro says, but his voice is lost into the empty room, teeth gritting together as the orange of Wolf’s haori disappears in the dark.

  
  


Good. 

  
  


There is no greater wish for his loneliness right now. 

  
  


He kneels down on the dust, fingers already fumbling to loose off his hakama. Wolf’s raw display of vulnerability flashes through his mind like rays of sunlight and it leaves burning imprints into his brain. The hand around his bare cock feels iron-like. It works it to full mast while his eyes and nose remain transfixed upon the foul, slick mix of food and gastric juices before him, and he thinks of Wolf’s mouth and how warm and beautiful he felt inside before Wolf’s nourishment, Genichiro’s _courtesy_ , went to waste. _Ruined_. 

  
  


It doesn’t take long for him to spill onto the mess with thick white ropes of come, breathing out Wolf’s name once like it’s a sin, before he finally wipes his cock with his free hand. As he tucks himself back into his clothes, Genichiro makes a mental note to burst into Wolf’s quarters with a new tray of food later. 


End file.
